Aqua Regia
by Niphrehdil
Summary: During the last hours of Walter White's life, he realizes many things about his relationship with Jesse. They say that if you love someone enough, you can let them go.


Walt abandons the watch Jesse has given him.

He puts it on top of a gasoline meter.

He has no use of it anymore. His time has run out. And Walt is sure Jesse has been dead for a long time, thrown to some ditch to rot. So in a sense, both of their times have run out.

No watches needed.

Walt walks away from it, because he has decided to go out with a bang. He will not die sick and small in New Hampshire.

He will leave Jesse's watch behind, just like Walt is leaving the last of his morality and good intentions behind.

This is it.

He is a dying man.

But at least he can decide the day he'll die.

And it is going to be today.

Surprisingly, Walt feels no fear. He is calm.

* * *

During the lonely months in the small cabin, Walt has had time to think.

He has thought of Skyler and his kids. Hank. Marie.

And Jesse. Walt has thought of Jesse a lot.

Walt doesn't regret that he had given Jesse to Jack and his men.

Jesse had _broken_ Walt's heart. Jesse had dragged Hank into this. Jesse was just as damaged and far gone as Walt was.

Still, Walt had picked a bad habit of rubbing his watch absent-mindedly. Sliding his fingers over it; the blue color almost as perfect as his and Jesse's meth.

* * *

One time, an odd hip hop tune had started to play itself on repeat in Walt's head.

Walt has no idea why would that be, until he remembers that it's something Jesse used to listen during their long rides with the RV. Jesse, in his red shirt and messy hair. Jesse with a cigarette. Jesse with a trusting look on his eyes – like a puppy, so respectful and ready to obey and please.

His poor Jesse.

His lost Jesse.

Nobody can hear Walt sometimes crying in his small cabin. Walt is relieved to know that. Who would have guessed that the great, ruthless Heisenberg would end up alone, hated and sick to a godless town in the middle of snowy mountains?

Who would have guessed that he would die unloved and millions of miles from home?

Walt always knew that things could get bad. It would be a lie to claim otherwise.

But now, Walt has had really time to think. He makes a list of all the people he has killed. It's a long list, but fits into a one corner of an Albequerque newspaper.

Then Walt makes a list of all the people whose lives he has ruined.

He runs out of paper.

* * *

It's a long ride back to New Mexico.

In his head, Walt can make his peace with Hank. And Marie.

He knows Junior will hate him, and that's good. Hate is _simple_. Hate can be dealt with. Hate is logical; Junior can live his life and tell everyone that his father was a monster. No mixed feelings, no sympathies, no lingering love.

Skyler, however, will be numb. Walt knows that. Skyler is just drained; she has run out of emotions to give. But in some ways, Skyler still loves him. Walt can tell by the way she lets him in to her new house.

And the remains of Skyler's love for Walt gives Walt hope. And purpose. She lets him caress Holly's cheek one more time. Skyler is calm. There is no warmth left, there is no regret between them, but Walt still feels an old twinge of affection for her.  
Walt has created Heisenberg for himself, but he will kill Heisenberg for Skyler.

Hadn't he gotten what he wanted? A legacy for himself? A reputation to go on after he would be gone?

A chance to feel alive?

Walt thinks he has. The last two years of his life have been the most important ones. Most memorable. Most meaningful. He has reached his full potential. No matter the consequences.

_"I did it for me. I liked it. I was good at it. I was alive."_

But despite the calm finality Walt is feeling, despite the peace he has made with his actions, there is still one nagging, throbbing spot in his chest.

That's where his heart used to be.

Before Jesse broke it and ripped it out from his chest.

Walt has found no peace when it comes to Jesse. His lost, almost-son. His partner. His friend. His conscience.

His betrayer.

Walt can't make any peace with Jesse, because he can't hate him. No matter how hard he tries. _Hate is simple, hate is logical._

But not when it comes to Jesse.

So it seems fitting that Walt drives by Jesse's old house.

It looks abandoned. There are several graffitis on the walls. One of them says "Heisenberg's right hand", sprayed in yellow and dirty green.

Walt doesn't stop the car. He pushes the pedal harder.

* * *

Walt feels no hatred towards Elliot and Gretchen. He is done feeling bitter. He has built an empire of his own, even if it was a little different than Grey Matter.

When Badger and Skinny Pete sit in Walt's car, Walt feels tired. He is almost done. He is almost finished.

He is almost at peace.

But then those two junkies tell Walt that the blue meth is still being sold.

Things click in Walt's head_. _Conclusions run their course._ Jesse._

Jesse is the only one that can cook as effectively as Walt can. Walt taught him well.

A sharp, poignant knife rips through Walt's careful haze and numb calmness that has set in during the past months.

It tears a crack to Walt's mind, and pain and emotions start to bleed in.

Walt's hands start to shake.

_Jesse. Jesse is still alive._

Jesse has managed to do something Walt couldn't: change Jack's mind.

Walt can still hear echoes of himself begging for Hank's life. To no effect.

Jesse is still making millions and cooking meth, while Hank is rotting dead and full of maggots on the desert and Walt has spent his last months in a cabin.

Walt feels angry, angrier than he has in six months.

He is _outraged_.

Walt readies his gun. He readies himself.

He decides to take Jesse out too.

By God, Walt will make sure that the kid who broke his heart would die tonight.

The kid who he had loved like family and saved more times than himself. The kid Walt had risked everything for, time after time.

Jesse.

Walt reminds himself that he hates Jesse, that he is done caring for him.

Walt's hands tighten around the steering wheel.

This would be the last time he would take full measures.

Somehow, it slips past Walt's thoughts that he has started to call Jesse by his first name again, and not by "Pinkman" like he used to after Hank's death. "Pinkman" sounds informal, distant. "Jesse" sounds like care, worry. It reminds Walt of Jesse's laugh and Funyuns.

This small change should have given something away. That in the graveyard that was Walt's heart, something had started to grow from the ashes.

But Walt pushes all thoughts aside when he takes a heading to Jack's house.

* * *

Walt knows they will try and kill him as soon as he gets there. He is not stupid; he knows Lydia has ordered his death already.

_Goodbye, Lydia. Enjoy your Stevia._

That sounds like it's from a bad pop song. It almost makes Walt smile.

But Walt concentrates on the situation.

Fortunately Jack's men don't search his car. What would an old man like Walt, weak from the cancer, be able to do?

Walt trusts in their arrogance and ignorance. It has played well with him before, and it does so now.

* * *

This is it then.

Walt stands in the middle of their living room.

Anger starts to kick in.

"Jesse Pinkman, you promised that you would kill him, and you didn't. Instead, you partnered with him." Walt spits out. He is not letting anyone walk out here alive. Including Jesse. Especially including Jesse.

"He's alive, isn't he? He's cooking for you." Walt says to Jack, who immediately starts to defend himself.

"Him being alive is not him and me being partners," Jack says, and there's something sick by the way he says it. "Not by a damn sight. What, you think I'd partner with a rat?"

Suddenly, there's icy wave of dread wash over Walt. What does he mean?

Jack acts smug. "I'm gonna show you just how wrong you are, then I'm putting that bullet in your head myself." he says.

Walt doesn't care about Jack and his men, not really. He has just decided to kill them. It's business, it's coming full circle, loose ends coming together. That's why he had walked in here, determined and without a doubt, like a suicide bomber. Which he was, really.

But now, Walt loosens his grip around his car keys; the keys that hold the answer to all of this. There are footsteps. Clanging of metal.

Jesse walks in.

Walt stares.

* * *

_Snap._

The old, reflex-like worry for Jesse awakens. Somehow, like by a damn miracle, it's still there, in Walt's body and his mind – the insane and overprotective worry, the one only Jesse could bring out from him.

Walt had been sure it had been buried with Hank long time ago. That it was dead, that he was done. That every single bit of fatherly love he had for Jesse had burnt out.

Oh, how wrong he has been.

When they drag Jesse in, Walt's heart skips a beat.

He holds his breath; that's how terrifying the sight is.

Jesse is broken. He is slumped, chained like a dog. Unwashed, unshaved, uncared for.

He looks like an animal that someone has forgotten to feed and wash for a year.

The look in Jesse's eyes is haunted. The light in his eyes has gone dull.

Suddenly it all dawns to Walter; he realizes how this has gone down since Hank's death.

Jack and his bastards.

They have taken his Jesse. They have taken him and used him like a slave.

_His_ Jesse.

Walt feels a sudden rush of empathy, love and protectiveness. He feels it all, and the warmth and the sensation of it is overwhelming – he hasn't felt anything like it in a long, long time.

It feels like a brush of sweet summer wind after a chilly, long winter.

He thought he was too ruined to feel such good things anymore.

His poor Jesse. His partner. The last member of his family, the one that just didn't carry Walt's last name. His secret family. His right hand. _His_ Jesse.

Walt's original plan is suddenly forgotten.

In few, passing seconds, he makes up his mind.

Somehow, the decision is the easiest and the most natural he has ever made.

So Walt gathers all of the remaining strength he has, and plunges forward. Walt hits Jesse hard, and forces him down to the floor. Jesse is so bony that it hurts Walt to land on him. Jesse struggles, tries to push Walt off, grunts and screams, but there's too much chains so Jesse can't get up. Thank God for small miracles.

Walt takes a solid grip from Jesse's shirt. At the same time, his fingers search the button on his car keys.

_Click._

In two seconds, the room is full of howling bullets and flying debris, surprised yelps and dying screams.

Jesse startles but goes limp under Walt. Walt crawls further, makes sure he covers Jesse's body better.

Jesse smells like sweat and tears and blood.

"Stay still, Jesse," Walt whispers to him.

And then Jesse does as Walt tells him to. He stays still.

Somehow, realizing that, it makes Walt feel sick. After all of this, Jesse still obeys him? After everything?

Walt knows he doesn't deserve it. He's not even sure he wants it.

In a sudden rush, Walt realizes Jesse was never his. But he was always Jesse's.

That was the truth. Walt was just too selfish to see it before. Jesse had all of him, always; that's why Walt kept saving him time after time. Jesse had Walt's love, and that was why the kid had been able to break Walt's heart in the first place. All this time, Walt had told himself that it was about him letting go of Jesse. But it's not; it's the other way around.  
Walt's ego had blinded him.

_Jesse is like family to me._

Now, as the bloody screams fill the air, Walt starts to understand.

Seconds tick by. Bodies hit the floor.

Walt holds Jesse tightly. Cradles his head with his free hand, to protect it from the debris, as pieces of glass rain down on them.

When a bullet hits Walt on the side, Walt has only one thought running in his head.

_Thank God it wasn't him._

* * *

Next seconds go by in a blur. Jesse seems to realize Walt has saved his life, and feels safe enough to attack Todd. Meanwhile, Walt finishes Jack off. The poor bastard mumbles something about the money.

_Keep the money. _

Walt doesn't care.

Jesse frees himself from the chains. Walt thinks it's important that he isn't helping with that. Jesse has to do this on his own now.

Finally, he looks at Walt. Uncertain.

Walt slides the gun to him. Jesse takes it and points it at his head. Walt feels absolutely calm and ready.

-Do it. You want this." he says to Jesse.

Walt wants it to be Jesse. He wants to offer Jesse the satisfaction. If this is what Jesse wants, then so be it. Jesse needs this.

Even now, even after the hell Jesse has been through, the poor kid hesitates, tears brimming in his eyes.

"Say the words. Say you want this! Nothing happens until I hear you say it."

Oh, his good, _good_ Jesse.

Even now, asking permission, asking for orders. Walt feels sorrow starting to take hold of him.

_"I'm not doing what you want anymore, asshole." _Jesse had told him, all those months ago, on the phone. Walt suddenly wishes nothing more than it still held true.

Jesse is shaking.

"I want this." Walt whispers.

Jesse looks at him. For a few moments, Walt waits. Jesse seems to notice the bullet wound on Walt.

The gun drops to the ground with a clang. Jesse throws him one more glance.

"Then do it yourself."

Walt lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding. Relief floods in him. Sorrow washes away.

_Thank you_.

Jesse walks out.

* * *

Lydia calls.

_Goodbye Lydia._

* * *

Walt follows Jesse to the yard. Jesse opens the car door.

Then he turns to look at Walt. Suddenly, the moment stops. They look at each other through the empty space. There is no threat of violence, of danger between them. Walt has made it clear to Jesse that he will not harm him. How could he?

_This is right._

_Just go, son._

Jesse doesn't look angry anymore. He looks at Walt…with something quiet. They both feel it, know it. This is goodbye. Walt has saved Jesse's life for one last time. And most importantly, he has _let Jesse go_. Jesse isn't taking orders from him anymore. He is free. Free from the chains, from the DEA evidence, from Walt and his poisonous, possessive love for him. Free from Walt's control. From everything.

They share silent nods.

They both _know_.

Words are not needed.

Jesse steps into the car and speeds out. Walt watches him go.

The fence goes _bang_ when Jesse drives through it, into the night and into freedom. Walt thinks there is something almost poetical about that.

Slowly, he makes his way to the lab. Caressing the equipment one more time. The equipment Jesse has kept clean and in order, just like Walt had taught him to. Walt caresses the surfaces, knowing Jesse has touched them mere hours before. And that Jesse would never touch them again.

Walt can see his own reflection on the metal surface.

Chemistry. His love, his inspiration, his everything.

And now, he is golden.

He is going out with style; he can hear the sirens already.

And later tonight, he would be platinum. He would sell newspapers, take over the headlines. End up in history books. _Kingpin. Drug lord. All hail the king._

Walt thinks about it for a while.

Even if they can write a lot of things about Heisenberg, there still is something they would never know about.

_Aqua regia._

Royal water.

King water.

It's real name was nitro-hydrochloric acid. The only chemical mixture that could melt gold and platinum. The only thing that could dissolve a noble metal like that.

_Aqua regia. Jesse Pinkman._

The one and only chemical compound that had melted the golden king. The royal mixture. The one thing, the one person, that could dissolve Heisenberg. No matter how far gone he was, Jesse, his own aqua regia, has brought kindness and love to his last moments. It's like redemption.

Walt feels like that is a good way to go.

There is peace now.

Walt hopes Jesse realizes how powerful he truly is.

If there are such things as ghosts or guardian angels, Walt thinks he should drop by and pay his Jesse a visit sometimes.

The thought might be ridiculous, but it makes Walt smile a little before his knees give out.

He lies on the floor. Sirens make colors swirl at the ceiling.

He is golden. And he is dissolved.

Walt wishes Jesse goodnight.


End file.
